


Act of Grace

by HazelBite



Series: Age of Sail AU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: AU, Age of Sail, Community: 30_kisses, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelBite/pseuds/HazelBite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the high seas adventure of Captain Edward Elric, a privateer in the Amestris Navy and Russell Tringham, a surgeon from the island of Xenotime. These dashing young men must deal with crew members that can’t follow orders, a pervy old Commodore and his pistol wielding Captain, pirates of the 7 sins, getting shot at, not getting captured, not to mention their growing mutual attraction to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Act of Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I aged them up a little. Ed is 20 and Russ is 19 in this story.

“Unhand me, you brutes!” Russell yelled. Or, he would have if he hadn’t currently been gagged and tied.

The two men – more like boulders, Russell grumbled to himself – each had a grip on either side of him and were frog marching him down a very long pier. Russell wasn’t making it any easier for them and had been twisting and struggling the entire time to show that he still had some fight left in him. Russell was proud that he had, at least, managed one good punch before they bound his hands.

To think, the nerve of them! Kidnapping him out of his own clinic! What if he had had a patient? Russell hoped that Fletcher was alright; he had been on the other side of the island delivering a baby when Russell had been snatched and would at once notice the evidence of the struggle that had taken place once he returned. Who knows when he would get back, though, and how soon he would have people out searching for him. 

Russell’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted when the ungainly group reached the edge of the pier. Russell had one quick glance of a jolly boat tied up before he was unceremoniously pushed into it. He barely had time to prepare before he landed painfully on his knees on the bottom of the boat. He had a quick thought about throwing himself overboard but with his hands bound and having little skill in swimming anyway, he would surely sink like a stone. Before Russell could debate the pros and cons of drowning over being captured by pirates, his captors made up his mind for him and he found himself lashed to the gunwale by one while the other took up the oars.

It was really too bad that the island of Xenotime had such a small population; there was currently no one nearby to notice his capture, all the fishing boats had been out for hours already and the small village was some way away from the beach. Of course, Xenotime never had to deal with this sort of thing, unused to many strangers that they were, only having one port and a shallow one at that and nothing of much importance for trade anymore.

As Russell sulked in the sternsheets of the small boat, he noticed the ship that they were heading for at a steady pace. Russell was surprised; it didn’t look anything like he thought a pirate ship should look. The whole island had known about its arrival as soon as it had appeared earlier that morning but no one had wanted to go out and see what they wanted. Russell thought that surely pirates had arrived and that he was their captive.

When they pulled up alongside, Russell caught sight of the name, Trisha, emblazoned on the stern. There were a few shapes leaning over the railing and, after a flurry of movement, a plank connected to rope, almost like a swing, was lowered into the jolly boat. Russell found himself forced onto it and any thought of escaping left his mind as he was raised slowly into the air and over the side. It hadn’t seemed like such a long way up from the small boat and Russell hated heights.

He refused to look down until he was safely aboard the ship – although he figured safe was a relative term at the moment. While he was being hauled up, his captors had joined him on deck.

“Stand up straight! The Captain is coming,” one of them growled in his ear and Russell thought, this is it. 

Russell was shocked as he caught his first glimpse of the pirate Captain: he was shorter than he expected, much shorter than Russell, even, and didn’t look much like he imagined a pirate should, like he’d read about in books, in that there was no eye patch or parrot about his person. The only thing that made Russell hesitate was the fierce scowl on the Captain’s face until he realized it wasn’t directed at him.

“I told you to find me doctor not tie one up and drag him aboard!” the Captain roared and Russell was surprised to note that the two hulks on either side of him fairly quivered in fear.

“We was just interpretin’ yer orders, sir,” one of them managed to squeak out.

“That so? Well, interpret this: your spirit rations are cut and your shore leave has been revoked and if I so much as see a hair of yours above deck instead of at the bilge pumps than so help me, I will lash you to the rigging for a fortnight!”

Even though the anger was not directed at him, Russell still felt like he should make himself unnoticeable. The captain stared the two men down until they both nervously uttered, “aye aye, sir.”

The Captain seemed satisfied by that and continued, in a slightly lower voice, “release him and if I find out you have hurt him, I’ll cut your food rations too.”

They both made quick work of his bonds and Russell was happy to rub circulation back into limbs and lick his lips after the gag had been removed. He noticed the two men slink off into the shadows of the ship before he noticed that the Captain had come up to him.

“I apologize for this mess,” he began, “I should have learned by now not to send those two out on errands, they perpetually get their orders wrong.”

Russell did not know what to say to that so he merely nodded, still rubbing his wrists.

“I’m Captain Elric by the way, and you are on the Trisha, though not at all voluntarily, of course, so I will send you ashore at once.” He turned to a figure near the rail, “ready the chair!”

Everything was happening so quickly that Russell was reeling so the one thing he decided to focus on was The Captain. The other man was distracted, bellowing orders to get Russell sent back and didn’t notice Russell watching him.

Russell saw a quick tightening of the man’s jaw and a twitch in his cheek and suddenly realization dawned: “I told you to find me a doctor…”

The Captain was in pain and was obviously very skilled in not showing it. Russell was sure that no one would ever notice unless the Captain said something and Russell could already tell that Captain Elric was not the kind of man to do such a thing.

But Russell could tell. It was his job to diagnose stubborn patients who assured him it was just a scratch when it was actually a fractured rib or something much worse. Xenotime miners were always having bad accidents but didn’t want to loose face in front of their friends.

Russell moved closer to the Captain and said, in voice that only he could hear, “I would be glad to stay if you require my assistance,” and added a look that suggested he knew why he was brought on board.

The Captain gave him a sharp look as though deciding if that was really such a good idea after all. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he said finally, “not after the way my crew has treated you.”

Russell had been more than ready to go back home up until that moment, but the Captain was now a potential patient and Russell and his brother were the only doctors on Xenotime. He had to help this man even if his crew had kidnapped him. It was his duty.

“That is of no concern to me now,” Russell insisted.

The captain seemed to be sizing him up before coming to a decision. “Alright,” he agreed with a nod. Turning to the men working with the swing, he yelled, “Belay that chair and send word for the cook!” 

Captain Elric motioned for Russell to follow and led him to a well appointed cabin, decorations of exotic origin filling any and all free space. While Russell was busy gawking like a peasant in the midst of riches, the captain had busied himself with a crystal decanter and two snifters.

“Like my prizes?” he asked, noticing Russell’s distraction. Russell nodded.

“Where did you get them?”

“From all over,” the captain waved a hand like it was nothing before pouring two glasses of a rich amber colored liquid. “Xing mostly, but some of those tribal masks came all the way from north Drachma,” the captain handed him a glass with a quick grin, “and this is some of the finest Cretan brandy you will ever taste.”

Russell’s shock continued; he had not expected pirates to be so cultured and now he wasn’t so sure if his first guess about Captain Elric was correct after all.

“So you’re a collector?” Russell asked hoping it sounded like he was merely curious instead of prying.

“Of a sort,” the captain replied nonchalantly taking a sip from his glass before sprawling casually on one of the comfortable looking chairs surrounding a sturdy wooden table that took up most of the floor space.

“I’m lucky in that I get to keep whatever I want from a captured ship before turning the rest over to the government.”

That would explain it, Russell thought. Privateers, like Captain Elric, were only one official document away from being pirates.

Realizing that he hadn’t taken advantage of the captain’s hospitality, Russell took a sip from his own glass and was surprised to find that it was like drinking liquid summer. It was exquisite. Russell made an approving sound as the captain motioned him to take a seat before he took a sip of his own. Russell could see the captain watching him carefully over the rim of the glass.

“I didn’t think the government was usually so generous to her privateers,” Russell commented, now genuinely curious.

“They’re not,” the Captain grimaced, “I just happen to have an influential sponsor.”

But before he could elaborate, a knock came at the door and a tall man wearing a much used apron entered the cabin.

“Ah Belsio, good,” he waved a hand toward Russell. “This is Doctor…” the Captain glanced at him questioningly.

“Tringham. I’m Doctor Tringham.”

“…our visitor from Xenotime,” Captain Elric finished.

Belsio acknowledged Russell with a short bow, “pleased to meet you, sir.” Russell nodded in reply.

“Can you bring us some hot water and some of that excellent soup I smelled cooking earlier?” he asked genially.

“Not a problem, sir,” Belsio replied with a polite smile.

“The good doctor here may need use of your herb cupboard as well,” Captain Elric added.

“Happy to be of service,” Belsio replied kindly and Russell got the impression that the cook was one of the few crew members that knew about whatever was ailing the Captain. Belsio bowed out of the cabin quietly with one last nod to Russell.

When Russell turned back to the Captain, the first thing he noticed was that he had started to unbutton his shirt. There was a brief moment before the professional side of Russell kicked in that he found himself studying the Captain as his shirt came off: his muscled arms and chest, small, compact, powerful. The ghost of a shiver and an unrealized feeling washed over him. Then, just as suddenly, the second thing Russell noticed was -

“Automail,” Russell commented in wonder. He’d never actually met someone with automail before even though he had made sure to read up on the new technology as soon as he’d heard about it.

“You like it?” the Captain asked, smiling with pride. “Custom made by one of my best friends.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Russell said in awe. He shifted around in his chair to get better look. Even the best sketches he’d seen of automail had never been this magnificent.

His curiosity overwhelmed him. “May I?” he asked politely and the Captain held out his arm. Russell found himself admiring the uncommon mixture of the strength and beauty of automail. He ran his hand along the smooth metal, well taken care of, he noticed, not a dent or scratch in sight. As he made his way toward the shoulder piece, Russell happened to glance up at the Captain who had seemingly been watching him the entire time. That’s all it took for reality to snap back into place. He should be ashamed of himself, letting himself get distracted like this when he had a patient waiting for his assistance. 

Russell cleared his throat guiltily and put some distance between them.

“I apologize, Captain,” Russell said, all business again, rolling up his sleeves to give his hands something to do. “You brought me here for a reason and here I am fawning over an exquisitely crafted piece of automail.”

The Captain blinked once, still watching him closely and then said, “Don’t worry about it. As a matter of fact, my arm is the reason I anchored here looking for a doctor.”

Russell furrowed his brow in concern.

“You see, my mechanic does not sail with me anymore, so tune-ups are few and far between now and the strain on my back and shoulders sometimes gets too intense to bear.”

“I see,” Russell replied standing and moving around behind the Captain’s chair. His hands hovered over the other man’s shoulders, hesitating slightly before laying them down on metal and flesh alike. 

“Can you tell me exactly where the pain is coming from?” Russell asked, his fingers moving efficiently over warm skin.

“Closer to the middle,” the Captain began, “slightly lower…just there…”

“How does this feel, Captain?” Russell asked politely as he worked his hands gently, while a vague observation in the back of his mind commented about how warm the Captain’s skin was.

“Damn but you are a magician with your fingers,” The Captain managed to say in a flurry of released breath and Russell grinned to himself. The man before him was the not the first to say so and would definitely not be the last but coming from the Captain, from what little he knew of him, Russell felt like it was the highest praise.

“And at this point, I think you can call me Ed,” the Captain replied in a languid voice, eyes drifting shut and head starting the loll to one side.

“If you think this is nice, wait until I apply some medicine,” Russell replied, inwardly pleased and the Captain’s reaction to his treatment.

There was a knock at the door again as Belsio returned, tray of soup in hand with a young boy trailing behind carrying a steaming pitcher of water. The boy walked as swiftly as he could toward the sideboard dipping a careful nod to the Captain and looking up at Russell with large eyes before suddenly remembering his job and leaving the pitcher within reach. He hurried back to the door, briefly touched thumb and forefinger to his head, before turning and scurrying out.

Ed looked over at Belsio who was setting the tray on the table.

“Your strays seem to be getting smaller and smaller, Belsio,” Ed told him with a grin.

Belsio smiled back. “He’ll be big enough soon. You remember what Tim was like at that age?”

“That I do,” Ed replied with a slight chuckle. “And now he has the gift of finding the best brothels in all Amestris.”

“Aye, the lad has done us all proud,” Belsio agreed.

Ed looked back at Russell, “if you write a list of what you need, Belsio can bring it for you.” 

Ed stood and walked through a door on the opposite wall returning in a few moments later with pen, ink, and paper. Russell had a sudden thought.

“If I may, I can also send word to my brother,” Russell began, “our front room was left in slight…disarray and I would like to make sure he doesn’t worry.”

Ed nodded in agreement. “Belsio, make sure you send someone competent,” he paused and Belsio quirked a small smile as though he knew about whom Ed was referring.

Russell quickly jotted down a few things that he would need to help Ed and dashed out a message to his brother before handing them both to Belsio.

“Very good sir, it seems we have everything you need,” Belsio commented, eyes fixed on the list.

“We just recently had a very successful….acquirement of goods,” Ed added with a hint of a grin.

As soon as Belsio brought everything on the list, and then some, Russell thought, inwardly pleased. The cook seemed to know exactly what they both would need.

“Your cook is very efficient,” Russell commented as he rinsed and dried his hands before setting to work with mortar and pestle.

Ed nodded, “been with me since the beginning. His knowledge of herbs helps in a pinch when there’s no doctor around.”

Russell chose a few select herbs with the ease of long practice, pretending to be unaware of the captain’s close observation of his hands, and made up a poultice with steaming water and cloth.

Russell could tell right away that it had begun to work. The tension drained out of Ed’s shoulder, his head fell back and eyes closed slowly as the cloth strips were placed on his skin.

Russell left the captain to sit and relax for a while and began to make up an herbal tea that would help with muscle ache.

The only thing to interrupt was a brief knock and inward swing of the cabin door.

“Brother, there’s word from the masthead…” the voice said and Russell looked up to see a young man peer into the cabin. He had many of the same features as the captain and Russell could tell that he was the younger brother by his looks and by the way he deferred to the captain.

The young man caught sight of Russell as well.

“Excuse me, I didn’t know you had company,” he said politely.

“It’s alright, Al. What’s going on?” Ed asked sitting up, attention completely on his brother.

“Sails on the horizon to windward,” Al informed him.

Edward nodded, “can you tell who it is?”

“Not yet, I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Thanks Al,” the captain replied and Al bobbed his head, gave Russell one more curious look and shut the door behind him.

Russell turned his attention back to tea making before handing the mug over to the captain who downed it in one. He could hear the captain sigh in relief.

“I think I made the right choice in picking this island,” Ed said suddenly and Russell felt silent pride at the words. Why would such a compliment affect him this way? Others who had said nice things to him never made him feel as though he was only working for their praise.

“Surely you’ve had other doctors of the same caliber,” Russell said, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.

“Hardly. Belsio does what he can but it’s nothing compared to this,” Ed replied, voice slow and sleepy even though Russell hadn’t given him anything to induce sleep. Wouldn’t be a smart move for the captain of a ship anyway, they were always on duty.

Russell needn’t have worried because Ed snapped awake once again at his brother’s knock.

“It’s the Commodore’s colors,” Al informed them, “and they’ve signaled for us to prepare for his arrival.”

“Damn,” Ed swore under his breath. “You’d better run and warn Belsio, Al, the man’s a wonder with last minute feasts.”

Al darted out and, before the door shut, Russell could hear him yelling orders to various crew members.

“Must the bastard never see fit to give me fair warning?” Ed grumbled to himself. “I was fully intending to have a relaxing day…”

“I can complete your treatment later, if you’d like?” Russell offered, removing the wet bandages.

“That would be great, if it’s not too much of a hassle,” Ed replied, grabbing his linen shirt and pulling it over his head.

“An actual Commodore from the Amestris Navy?” Russell asked, catching a glimpse of disappearing skin before he turned to wash his hands in the porcelain basin.

“And my generous sponsor,” Ed added as he re-wrapped his hair into a tight queue.

“Not a nice man?” Russell took a guess.

“He has his moments,” Ed shrugged as he tucked in the ends. “I’d like him better if he turned his attentions elsewhere, like to that pretty Captain of his.”

Ed left for a moment into the other room and Russell heard some doors opening, clothes rustling and doors closing again as he dried his hands.

“Care to stay for dinner?” Ed asked coming back out while pulling on a beautifully tailored deep red jacket.

Russell was momentarily distracted by the way Ed wore the jacket; it was fitted perfectly across his shoulders, tapered slightly at the waist and flared out again to mid thigh. He almost missed the spoken invitation.

“Surely you won’t need the company of doctor,” he managed to say, suddenly feeling as though he’d be out of place in the presence of a Commodore, of all people.

“It’s the least I can do to repay you for your kindness,” Ed assured him, “plus, having someone else in the room may stop his wandering hands.”

Ed paused, giving him a once over and Russell hoped that the flush he felt wasn't outwardly obvious.

“On second thought, you’d better be careful around him,” Ed warned, “you’re just his type.”

“Oh?”

“Blond and good looking,” Ed replied off-hand and Russell felt a slight flutter at the words.

“Here,” Ed said and disappeared once more into the other room before coming out with a green and gold jacket. “This is about your size I think,” Ed looked at him thoughtfully, then at the jacket before walking over to help Russell put it on.

As Russell pushed his arms through the sleeves, he couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He had never needed anyone to help him dress before and Ed was so much shorter than him he thought the other man would have some trouble but there was no comment from the captain as Ed carefully smoothed out the fabric, his hands running from neck, to shoulders, to arms before trailing away. There was a part of Russell that wished Ed hadn’t stopped and he fiddled with the cuffs to hide his sudden bout of nerves.

“Just as I thought, perfect,” Ed declared before Belsio entered the room again, this time with a train of helpers carrying covered platters to keep the food warm, some had bottles of wine, some with boxes of who knew what, others with place settings and fresh linens.

Russell pushed himself as close to the wall as he could manage trying desperately to stay out of the way, he barely noticed Ed come over to him, avoiding any precariously balanced trays with practiced movements and tugged him toward the opposite door, the one Ed had been in and out of a few times that day.

Russell was not surprised to find a comfortably sized bedroom and workspace. There was a surprisingly comfortable-looking sleeping bunk to his left next to a magnificent dark wood wardrobe that took up a good sized corner of the cabin. On the right was a large desk and well-appointed chair. The desk was covered in stacks of papers that barely left any space to write, cluttered but not messy, and was a smaller version of the table in the main room. This one had a map open, weights in each corner to keep it from rolling. There was storage space for other maps and papers, some of them sticking out of boxes around the desk. And right in front of them, a large window that took up most of the cabin wall complete with window seat and throw pillows made with exotic patterns and textiles. There was a small door set into this same wall that led outside to a narrow walking deck.

Ed walked over to the desk and pulled around a second chair for Russell.

“We can hide out in here for a while. Belsio likes to make sure things are perfect,” Ed commented. “Good thing too, the Commodore can be very particular.”

Russell finally decided to ask Ed the question he had been wondering about. “So, how did you get to be acquainted with the Commodore anyway, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ed looked thoughtful, the corners of his mouth turned down and Russell thought that maybe he asked too personal a question, until Ed replied, “he used to be my captain, actually.”

This surprised Russell because he could not see Ed as the type to take orders from anyone. But before Russell could ask, Ed continued on.

“My brother and I managed to get work on his ship when we were younger, after our mother died,” Russell saw a flash of sadness in Ed’s eyes but he was continuing on too quickly for Russell to express his sympathy. “We were just lowly ship’s boys and the Commodore was a newly appointed Captain but I guess he saw something in us that made him want to help. As I got older, I had more trouble following his orders and he had less patience for me until he figured out a way to keep an eye on me and my brother from a distance. That’s how he got me this gig. It worked out perfectly for all of us, actually, because he gets a cut of what we find too. I only have to put up with him occasionally and I get my own ship.” Ed finished that last sentence with fondness in his voice looking with pride around the cabin. “You must have seen the name of her, Trisha, for my mother.”

Something must have been struck inside Russell; he hadn’t felt this empty since his own mother’s death as though Ed talking about the loss of his own mother brought out all the memories that Russell had been hiding. He felt he had to say something to Ed, though, so he managed to get out, “I’m sure you’ve done her proud,” but even he could hear the crack in his voice, the breathiness, the barely hidden pain and he knew Ed could hear it too because the other man was looking at him with a mixture of realization and sympathy.

Ed leaned toward him a little and just as Russell thought Ed was going to say or do something, there was a knock on the cabin door and the moment was lost. The hand Ed was reaching out to Russell fell into the space between them. Both straightened up, hiding behind their own individual masks with ease just as the door opened and Belsio stuck his head in.

“Lieutenant’s respects sir, but he says the Commodore’s boat has come alongside.”

“Thank you Belsio,” Ed replied professionally, straitening the cuffs of his coat, “we shall be out shortly.”

Ed turned to Russell as the door closed again and, with a grin firmly in place, said, “ready to meet the Commodore?”

 

&&&

 

Commodore Mustang was the first to arrive on deck and, as Ed stepped forward to meet him, Russell had a few moments to study the man. Tall and dark haired, with a kinder face than he expected after Ed’s comments, the man had a way about him that commanded respect from everyone in his presence.

Russell was startled out of his observations when he heard Ed speak his name.

“…may I introduce Dr. Tringham? He is visiting from Xenotime and will be joining us for dinner.”

Suddenly he found himself at the receiving end of a look that made him feel like he was being appraised for an auction. He shook hands with the Commodore hoping he wasn’t making a fool of himself as he stammered out a greeting.

The Commodore was still staring at him. 

“Very nice, Ed. I must say you still know how to pick them.” And before Russell could think of a reply – how could he reply to that? – Commodore Mustang was introducing his Captain, a tall woman by the name of Hawkeye. Russell thought she was attractive but that he would be more inclined to like her if she hadn’t kept running her hands over her pistols and, every now and then, glancing around suspiciously at the crew.

Ed stepped back next to him again as Commodore Mustang and Captain Hawkeye were shown to the dining cabin by Al. He said to Russell, quickly and quietly, “don’t be offended by anything the Commodore says, because that’s just the way he is, and don’t be alarmed if he makes a pass at you because it means he likes you enough to trust you.”

“You’re telling me this now?” Russell asked in a slightly strangled voice.

“Gives you less time to worry beforehand,” Ed replied with a wink.

 

&&&

 

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant, once Russell got used to the Commodore’s brusque manner and tendency for innuendo. There was really only one blatant comment in Russell’s direction but Ed managed to gloss over that one with a brief grin in Russell’s direction and well placed reply that had Russell feeling like Ed had a lot of practice doing things like that.

The conversation eventually got around to Russell’s background.

“Tell me, Doctor,” the Commodore began, “what made you choose such a small island as the place to set up your practice?”

Feeling much more comfortable around the man, Russell found it easy to reply, that and the freely flowing wine.

He took a sip before speaking. “Actually, I was born on Xenotime myself, so I’ve seen what lack of a good doctor does to such a small place. That is why I decided to go to the Central Island and study medicine so I could come back and help my village.”

“Very selfless of you,” the Commodore replied, raising a glass to him, before the conversation continued on to other topics.

In fact, Russell was enjoying the conversation and company so much that when they were interrupted over desert, for a moment Russell had forgotten they were on a ship that was fully capable of going into battle.

One of the cabin boys brought the message.

“Report from the masthead, sirs,” the boy said, obviously trying not to fidget in the presence of so many officers, “sails to lee-ward identified as one of The Seven.”

There was a heavy silence before Ed replied, “thank you, Len, let us know if there are any changes.”

As the boy left in a hurry, Ed turned to Al as the Lieutenant stood to leave. “You know what to do,” and Russell was suddenly in the middle of a flurry of activity for the second time that day. 

Russell had heard of the Seven before – who hadn’t? – and he knew what they were capable of. Stories from men who knew someone who had fought one of the crew members or such similar tales. He knew that each ship was named after a different sin, thought to be the one each Captain was most fond of and that’s why they were called the Seven. No one seemed to know who was in charge of the Seven, if anyone.

One of the elders on Xenotime always told tales from back when the island was a prosperous gold mining colony. They were always under threat from the Greed and her crew until, finally, the island was attacked and all those who could not, or would not, flee were killed. Very few ever returned to Xenotime and that was the end of the island’s golden age, so it was told. 

Russell was never sure if the story was true because it happened long before he was born and how could the Seven exist then and now?

The Commodore, Captain Hawkeye, and Ed had all congregated while Russell was lost in though and he was sure orders and tactics were being hastily discussed. Belsio and his group had begun clearing the table, securing any large objects and locking up any free moving small items around the cabin.

Russell finished off his wine as he heard the Commodore speak over the bustle, “We must get back to the Hayate,” before he and Captain Hawkeye swept out.

Ed was at his side within seconds.

“I’ve got to get you ashore,” he said, eyes wide with an emotion that made Russell worry. “You can take one of the boats; I should be able to spare one of the men…”

All he knew was that he didn’t want to leave Ed, not now, not when something seemed to be troubling him.

“You’ll need a surgeon,” Russell cut him off, determined to help. “You said there hadn’t been one on board in years.”

Ed looked away for a moment and Russell saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath before turning back to face him.

“It’s dangerous below deck, even for a Doctor,” Ed gripped Russell’s arms tightly, just above the elbow. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“And I would never forgive myself if I left knowing that there were people I could have saved.”

Ed studied him and looked as though he was deciding how to reply.

“The last time I had a run in with one of the Seven,” he said finally, his voice a whisper between the two of them in the now empty cabin, “I had to get this,” he pulled up the sleeve on his right arm, “but they are capable of a lot more.”

Russell took Ed’s automail hand in his own, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. He rubbed his thumb over the fog his breath had made while giving Ed the most reassuring look he could.

“I’ll make sure you have one less thing to worry about out there.”

 

&&&

 

As Ed showed Russell to the wardroom that doubled as a temporary sick bay, they were intercepted by Al who looked significantly more worried than he had at the end of dinner.

“Brother, I’ve just had word, two more ships have appeared hull down,” Al took in a sharp breath, “and we know that the first ship is the Envy…”

“So the other two are most likely the Lust and Gluttony,” Ed finished for him, sounding resigned and determined at the same time.

Al nodded, watching his brother carefully.

Ed laid a reassuring hand on Al’s shoulder, “we have the numbers this time, three ships of the line, two frigates and a sloop all with crew trained to high Amestrisian standards. Look to the Commodore’s signal.”

Al nodded quickly and moved off, issuing quick orders to a few nearby deck hands.

Ed beckoned Russell to follow into a moderately sized cabin where Belsio was spreading linens over benches and tables.

“It looks like you’re going to have some assistance, Belsio,” Ed said cheerfully as though he wasn’t preparing to go up against some of the most ruthless pirates the world has ever known.

“I welcome the help, sir,” he replied graciously before turning to straighten a selection of surgical tools.

Ed’s expression turned serious as he looked at Russell.

“Whatever you hear above deck,” he began, reaching up to lay a hand on Russell’s cheek, “stay in this room, it’s the safest place on board. Belsio and the others will bring the injured to you.”

Russell nodded silently, covering Ed’s hand with his own.

Ed gave him one last lingering look before rushing out of the cabin.

 

&&&

 

It started out gradually with a few canon shots spaced out over a half hour. The intervals between were completely silent and Russell wondered how the crew could handle it. His own life wasn’t on the line and he was still pacing just to give himself something else to think about.

“The waiting is always the hardest part,” Belsio observed, breaking the silence. 

“Have you seen many fights?” he asked, hoping conversation would distract from how nervous he felt for the crew and for the Captain.

“Not many,” he replied, “Captain Elric is very skilled at achieving the most with very few injuries. But there have still been some that have ended horribly.”

Before Russell could inquire further, there was a massive shuddering crash immediately followed by a thunderous booming. The men above deck began shouting and the canon fire seemed to be coming from all around him now with barely any pause between.

Belsio seemed to take that as his cue to leave, and Russell took a brief moment to learn how to stabilize himself as the ship lurched and shook.

Everything started happening very quickly from that point on: Russell’s first patient was one with a large amount of splinter wounds, some of the pieces longer than his forearm. Then the more severely injured started to arrive and Belsio had to stay and help him with one man who had lost his foot when a canon ball came through the side of the ship.

Russell was focused so completely on his work that he began to tune out the sound of battle. Until the sound of battle changed from canon blast to metal against metal and the newly injured started arriving with bullet wounds and deep gashes.

Belsio came back with one of the Lieutenants who had a large wound on her side and had passed out from blood loss.

“The enemy is trying to board the ship,” he told Russell. Belsio went on after seeing the look on Russell’s face, “don’t worry. The Captain won’t let that happen.”

Russell nodded absently as he continued stitching up the Lieutenant.

But, after that, things progressed from bad to worse. Though all of his patients were stable for the moment, the sound above them seemed to have increased and Belsio looked more and more alarmed. 

He left for a moment before dashing back into the room and securing the door with a large metal bar. Russell watched as he opened a large wooden box and took out a pair of pistols.

Russell’s stomach flipped.

“You know how to use one of these?”

Russell shook his head silently.

There was a loud thudding noise from the other side of the door.

“Get to the back,” Belsio motioned him to the far corner and Russell went without protest thinking vaguely that there was no where to hide in here and what had he gotten himself into?

Belsio was loading the guns with practiced ease, hands surprisingly steady as the banging became more frequent. The metal bar was rattling but still held strong. It wasn’t until an axe started breaking through the wood that Russell felt actual fear for the first time since this whole thing had started.

And then a few things happened all at once. 

Belsio fired his only two shots through the hole in the door, a frightening amount of hands reached through from outside to force the bar away, and Russell grabbed the closest weapon he could find, an amputation knife, and slipped it up his sleeve just as a group of burly men forced their way into the room.

Two of them held Belsio immobile and Russell found himself dragged to the middle of the room. The group seemed to be waiting for someone.

At last, a tall, lithe man with long dark hair stepped into the room. He surveyed the roomful of captives closely before his gaze landed Russell.

“Your Captain is my prisoner. Surrender now and you will be allowed to live!”

**Author's Note:**

> This bit of fun was inspired by multiple re-readings of the Hornblower series by C. S. Forrester (also, a picture of Ed and Al as pirates.) I originally wanted to write a full on pirate!AU but it ended up turning into an Age of Sail!AU instead (but there are still pirates!). I also didn’t want to overdo the old timey language too much plus mixing that with Ed’s character was a little difficult for me so I apologize in advance for any OOC-ness. Title is a nautical phrase that refers to a letter from a state or power authorizing action by privateer.
> 
> Fills prompt #21 [violence; pillage/plunder; extortion] for 30_kisses.


End file.
